


Night of the Daleks

by neveralarch



Series: Best_enemies comment fic [2]
Category: Doctor Who: The Curse of Fatal Death
Genre: Comment Fic, Community: best_enemies, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-13
Updated: 2012-06-13
Packaged: 2017-11-07 16:08:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neveralarch/pseuds/neveralarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short fic about the Doctor's evilness kink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night of the Daleks

"The etheric beam locators don't make you more," the Doctor paused, running her tongue over her teeth, before resuming, "Dalek-y, do they?"

"What?" said the Master. He was mesmerized by the Doctor's new trick with her teeth, which, while somewhat disgusting, was also somewhat attractive. He wasn't sure what he should do about it. Kiss her? They were in her bed, so at least the setting was conducive. But that might be too forward, when the Doctor was trying to have a serious discussion. Perhaps if the Master just smouldered at her, she might take the initiative and clear up any confusion about-

The Doctor snapped her fingers in the Master's face.

"You," she said. "Turning into a Dalek? Yes or no?"

"No," said the Master. Right. Serious discussion, no kissing. "Why in the vortex would you think such a thing?"

"You've got Dalek bumps," pointed out the Doctor. "You obviously let the Daleks operate on you. Who's to say that they stopped with superficial changes?"

"I am," said the Master. He squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest, which had the unfortunate side-effect of making the etheric beam locators more prominent. He quickly drew up a sheet to cover them before continuing. "I checked my imprimatur as soon as I had a chance. I'm one hundred percent Time Lord, and actually I'm a little offended that-"

"One hundred percent?" asked the Doctor. She raised an eyebrow, and the Master sagged.

"Sixty-five percent," he conceded. "Fifteen percent Human, ten percent TARDIS energy, four percent Cheetah, four percent Traken, and two percent Lint."

"Lint?" asked the Doctor.

"I think I picked some up when I was crawling around in San Francisco," said the Master, sulkily. "But the point is, no Dalek. Absolutely none."

"Oh," said the Doctor. She looked disappointed. Probably because she had just found out her nemesis was partially made of lint; the Master had meant to keep that to himself. "So the Dalek bumps are all there is."

"Yes," said the Master, and then squeaked when the Doctor plucked away the sheet that had been covering his locators. The Doctor palmed them, thoughtful, and the Master thought he may have misread the level of serious discussion versus kissing-or-possibly-sex in this situation.

"I suppose that will have to be good enough," said the Doctor, and licked the Master's left locator.

"Good enough?" said the Master, or tried to. It came out a little strangled, because the Doctor moved herself half-into his lap at the same time as the Master was trying to speak.

"Ooh, I can still taste the Dalek on you," said the Doctor, dreamily. A horrible thought struck the Master.

"You're not sexually attracted to Daleks, are you?"

"Sexually attracted? To Daleks?" The Doctor forced a little laugh that was somewhat undermined by her continued attempts to polish the Master's locators with her palms.

"You are!" said the Master. "That's- Doctor, they're the most evil beings in the galaxy!"

"Are you going to argue me out of having a fetish for evil beings?" asked the Doctor. She finally took a hand away from the Master's chest and grabbed his chin instead, forcing him to look at her eyes.

The Master considered the levels of hypocrisy and irony with which he would be comfortable. He also considered the degree to which the Doctor made normally disgusting things very attractive indeed, simply by the fact of her Doctorness.

"No," he decided. "No, of course not. Would you like to, um, roleplay? Or something?"

The Doctor squealed with delight and pushed him on to his back. It reminded the Master strongly of her sixth body.

"You'd do that?" she asked. "For me?"

"You," said the Master, very gravely, "will be exterminated."

The Doctor kissed him. The Master beamed, and also tried not to swallow his own tongue by mistake.

"The voice isn't quite right, though," said the Doctor, when she broke away. "Let me get you the synthesizer."

"You have a synthesizer?" The Master ran his hands through his hair and sat up as the Doctor rummaged in a drawer. "You keep it in your bedroom?"

"Here," said the Doctor, ignoring the Master's questions, which was fine, he didn't know what sort of answers he had been expecting. "Put this in your mouth and try again."

The Master fitted the little device between his lips and said: "EX-TER-MIN-ATE."

He jumped. The Doctor squealed and tackled him again.

"I DON'T KNOW," said the Master. "THIS IS A LIT-TLE CREE-PY."

"Yes," moaned the Doctor. "Keep talking. But do try to get the syntax right."

"DAL-EKS DON'T HAVE SYN-TAX," protested the Master, and then he got distracted for a while because the Doctor had his trousers open and she was really very clever with her hands.

"Oh, just stick with words ending in ate, then," said the Doctor. "Though it is cheating."

"UM," said the Master. "THAT IS HIGH-LY AD-E-QUATE?"

"Thanks," said the Doctor, dryly. "Go on."

"MAS-TUR-BATE?"

"Yes, that is what I'm doing," said the Doctor. She seemed to recognize the condescension in her tone, because she smiled at the Master as if to take the edge off. "But I like this dirty talk. What do you want to do next, my Dalek overlord?"

The Master thought furiously, which was difficult when the Doctor had a locator in one hand and his cock in the other.

"PRO-CRE-ATE," he said, finally.

"You're on contraception," said the Doctor.

"THERE AREN'T A LOT OF SEX WORDS END-ING IN ATE," said the Master. "EX-CUSE ME FOR TRY-ING PRO-PER WORD CHOICE OV-ER RE-AL-IS-M."

"No, it was a good effort," said the Doctor, and shucked her own trousers. What followed was very nice indeed, and if the Master babbled a little and gave up on proper word choice, the Doctor didn't seem to mind.

"Come on," she said at last. "One more for me? So close, please, will you-"

The Master leaned in very close to her ear, and whispered: "E-JAC-U-LATE." The effect of whispering was ruined by the fact that the synthesizer seemed to operate on one, very loud, volume, but the Doctor gasped and came anyway.

"Wow," she said. "Yes. Good. Are you good?"

The Master pulled the synthesizer out of his mouth and coughed, delicately. "Yes," he said. "That was... fascinating."

"And hot," said the Doctor. "Right? Hot."

"Very 'hot,'" agreed the Master. "I think I enjoy seeing you this passionate, my dear."

It was true, he thought. Playing Dalek for the Doctor might be a bit strange, but it was worth it for the glow on her skin, and the tangle in her hair, and the-

"Excellent," said the Doctor. "Can we do Seadevils next? I think I've got some netting in the fifteenth storage unit."

"Seadevils?" asked the Master, surprised into honest disbelief. "How many of your foes do you harbor lust for, anyway?"

The Doctor frowned. "I was trying to be tactful. It's not as if I asked you to play the Rani or anything."

"I would be a much better Rani," declared the Master. "Let me go get my costume."

"You already have a Rani costume?" asked the Doctor. "Whatever do you use it for?"

There was a long pause. The Master could feel his cheeks heating, and after a moment the blush spread over to the Doctor's ears.

"Oh," she said, faintly. "Oh, good."

"Should I-?" asked the Master.

"Yes," said the Doctor. "Yes indeed. And we are never mentioning this to Ushas."

(Eventually they mentioned it to Ushas. It was the most bizarre threesome the Rani had ever personally participated in (n = 45, p < .001), and she couldn't look at the Master for centuries without thinking about it.  
  
But at least now the Rani knew what she would look like with a beard.)


End file.
